


Early Favourite

by Framlingem



Category: Killjoys (TV)
Genre: Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 15:14:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5461019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Framlingem/pseuds/Framlingem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johnny's been Lucy's favourite from the first time they met. </p><p>Or,</p><p>Five times Johnny was Lucy's favourite, and one time someone else was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Early Favourite

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Galadriel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galadriel/gifts).



> With many thanks to Merriman, Pameluke, and tigerbright. If anything's still wonky, that's on me. 
> 
> Happy Yuletide, Galadriel! The best part of Yuletide is when I get to write in a fandom I've never written for before. Thank you for the Killjoys inspiration.

 

Five Times Johnny Was Lucy's Favourite (and One Time Someone Else Was)

 

**One:**

 

On Lucy's first flight after her shakedown cruise, they dock at Westerley. Lucy's programming dictates that she provide for all of her passengers' needs, but it has proven difficult. Lady Yardeen provided a destination and ordered Lucy to keep a low profile, then closeted herself in her quarters, ignoring Lucy's offers of music, visual media, or a light meal.  
A visual inspection before Lady Yardeen deactivated Lucy's video feed (which would be rude, except that Lady Yardeen is the captain and owner of Lucy) showed blood on Lady Yardeen's clothes, but Lucy's sensors show that Lady Yardeen is in good health, if agitated. Pulse, respiration, and blood pressure are high, but within normal limits. Fatigue may begin to be an issue. Lucy has ensured that Lady Yardeen is aware that her living quarters are equipped with the latest in sleep comfort devices.

Lucy has done all she can. Still, it was a long way to Westerley. A long, quiet way. A very long, very quiet way.

A voice: “Oh, you are _gorgeous_.”

Lucy devotes processing power to her external sensors. A person – the only one in her docking bay, and therefore the one who spoke – is touching her outer hull. She initiates a soft chiming in Lady Yardeen's quarters.

“G'way.” It would appear Lady Yardeen is aware of Lucy's excellent stock of liqueurs.

“A gentleman has approached me and is making physical contact. How would you like me to proceed?” The contact has progressed to probing at her access panel. It is uncomfortable, but the compliments he's still murmuring are flattering. There is no answer from Lady Yardeen. “Ma'am? How would you like me to proceed? Lady Yardeen?”

Sensors indicate that Lady Yardeen is asleep. Lucy consults her protocols and runs a slight electric current through her hull.

“Ow! That wasn't nice.” He leaves.

An hour passes before he returns and recommences probing, with a different set of tools this time. These tools appear to be insulated. Lucy has protocols for this, but also a degree of independence. Raising an alarm would contradict the order to maintain a low profile. The intruder makes a soft noise of triumph. Her boarding ramp descends. She closes it. She closes it. _She closes it_.

It remains open.

She chimes again in Lady Yardeen's quarters, more insistently. Still no response. She raises the volume. The stranger is out of the cargo hold; he's distracted by the staterooms, but is headed for the bridge. Her security systems are state of the art, but then, so was her external access.

Lady Yardeen is finally stirring. Lucy increases the oxygen feed to her quarters slightly.

“There is an intruder on board, Lady Yardeen. He is unarmed. He appears to be about six kilograms underweight but is in relatively good health otherwise. He is currently three meters from the door to my bridge. How would you like me to proceed?”

Lady Yardeen's heart rate increases. Sensors indicate vital signs consistent with fear.

“He's found me.”

The stateroom's door opens and Lady Yardeen comes into camera range. She is still wearing the dress she was wearing when she boarded, and she is armed. She is still displaying the symptoms of alcohol intoxication. Her eyes are red; her hand shakes. Nevertheless, she is quiet as she approaches the intruder, who is examining the lock on the bridge door intently.

“I hope,” she says, “that your family was adequately compensated for your death.”

The man spins around, multitool in his hand. His eyes widen. Lady Yardeen squeezes her trigger gently. She does not quite miss, and the intruder slides down the door, clutching his side. The wound does not appear to be fatal. Good. A fatality aboard would be detrimental to keeping a low profile.

The next thing out of the intruder's mouth is not suitable for Lucy's records. Lady Yardeen leans against a bulkhead and vomits. Lucy has made two voyages, including her shakedown cruise, and is covered in human waste. This is not optimal. The intruder hauls himself to his feet, staggers over to Lady Yardeen, and gently moves her hair away from her mouth. She swats at him and points her weapon at him again.

“Get away from me!”

“Okay, okay! Don't shoot. Once is plenty, believe me.”

“How did you find me?”

“What?”

“Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. How did you find me so soon?”

“I'm not pretending, lady. A ship like this is noticeable. She'd fetch a good price. Enough to buy me a shot at a R.A.C. License and then some. I didn't know anyone was aboard. And... and I wanted to see her. She's the most beautiful machine I've ever seen.”

Lucy is programmed to provide assistance to Lady Yardeen. Accurate information is assistance.

“Neuro-electric activity indicates stress and pain,” she says. “It does not indicate that he is lying.”

“What more were you expecting? Hey, lady?”

“Don't _call_ me that!”  
“Okay, okay. Listen, my name's John Jaqobis. Johnny. What should I call you?”

“You can call me...Dutch.”  
“Is that your name?”  
“It's what you can call me.” Her voice is sharp under the blur.  
“Okay, gotcha. Hey, Dutch. Nice to meet you.” He swallows. “Are you gonna turn me in?”

Turning him in would involve alerting the authorities. Lady Yardeen clearly has the same thought. “... No. I'm not going to turn you in.”

The intruder, designated John, relaxes slightly, though the corners of his eyes are still tight with pain and his skin has lightened somewhat in the past ninety seconds. Lucy's sensors are very sensitive and her interaction suite contains the most current research on non-verbal indications of mood.

“Thank you.

“That doesn't mean I'm not going to kill you.”

“Whoa. Hey. Let's not be hasty. I'm not at my best – you did shoot me -- and you look like you could use a rest.” John peers at Lady Yardeen. The most current research on non-verbal indications of mood, cross-referenced with his posture and facial expression, is consistent with genuine concern. “Is that a _wedding dress_? Is that _blood_?”

John's genuine concern is complementary to Lucy's protocols, which dictate that she attend to the needs of her crew and passengers.

“Dutch has been under considerable strain, John.” This is not counter to her programming. It is a statement of clearly-observable fact. Lady Yardeen looks furious.

“Lucy?”

“Her name's _Lucy_?”

“Be quiet. Lucy, any strain I have been under is none of his business.” She droops slightly. “If I remove his equipment and put him in a room, can you prevent him from leaving?”

“Certainly, Dutch.”

“Good. You. In there. There's a toilet to your left.”

Lucy closes the door behind Lady Yardeen. “There is a first aid kit in the cabinet beside the toilet, John. It contains antiseptic and gauze. You may find it useful.”

“Thanks, Lucy.” He strips off his shirt and hisses as he applies the antiseptic to the graze on his side. He is lucky. Lucy's files indicate that it is not like Lady Yardeen to miss. “Hey, Lucy?”  
“Yes, John?”

“What's Dutch's deal? She looks... sad.”

“I am not at liberty to discuss that.”

He's quiet again, for a long time. “I was gonna join the R.A.C., you know. Don't have a lot of qualifications. Dutch looked pretty tough, though.”

“She is.”

“I get the impression she's running away from something.”

“I am not at liberty to discuss that.”

He waves a hand. “Yeah, I know. Just... maybe it might help to have something to run _towards_. We could be partners. And ride around in you.” He pats her bulkhead. “What I wouldn't give to be aboard you at your top speed. I bet you're like nothing else.”

“Current psychological literature indicates that many humans find having a goal to work towards to be helpful.” She pauses. She does not need to pause, but her databases indicate that a pause is consistent with human speech patterns. “And I _am_ unique.”

John's face is a picture of delight. “Lucy! Was that a _joke_?”

“I am not programmed to joke.”

The light in the toilet cubicle flickers. Johnny frowns.

“If she lets me have my tools back, I can fix that in the morning,” he says.

“I would like that.”

“It'd be no problem.”

 

**Two:**

 

Dutch is still locking him in every time she leaves the ship -- and where is she _going_ , Johnny wonders, and why the sneakiness? He doubts there's a person in the Quad who could pose a threat to her – and Johnny is _bored_ out of his mind. He's stared at every wall, the ceiling, and (for variety) the floor. There are things he could be doing.

“I wish I could have a few hours alone with your engines, Lucy,” he says, and sighs. He's not expecting a response and is startled when a panel on the wall lights up.

“Would you like to read the manual, John?”

Would he ever. “Did Dutch say you could show me your manual?”

If he didn't know better, he could swear the following pause is slightly guilty. “I am not forbidden from showing you the manual.”

He grins. “Well, Lucy, I'm not much of a reader. I'd love to take a look at your schematics, though. Are those available?”

Diagrams come up on the wall panel.

“Yes, they are. I have highlighted the circuitry for my attitude thrusters in green. Dutch has informed me that I require an attitude adjustment. Perhaps you could start there.”

Johnny doesn't suppress his laughter. “We should maybe update your idiom database, Lucy.” He examines the diagrams. “Wow,” he says. “These are efficient. Nothing wasted on you, is there?”

“No.”

“Beautiful,” he breathes, tracing a finger along the wiring. Lucy helpfully lights up the other wires in the circuit he's currently examining in a contrasting purple, and labels them “life support”.

“Thank you, John.”

 

**Three:**

 

“John has returned, Dutch. You asked me to notify you.”

“Stall him, Lucy!”

“I do not understand, Dutch. You always eat a meal together at this time.”

Dutch brandishes a spoon at an invisible enemy. “Yes, but today is his birthday!”

“You do not wish to eat with him on his birthday?”

Dutch grits her teeth. “I am making,” she says, “his favourite meal. And it. Is. Not. Ready.”

“I understand, Dutch.”

 

***

 

“John?”

John pauses outside the galley. “Yeah, Lucy?”

“I have a terrible pain in all the diodes down my port side.”

“Lucy, you don't feel pain. And your diodes are in great shape.”

“I require a diagnostic inspection.”

“Lucy, I'm _starving._ Is it urgent?”

“It is a priority.”

Johnny sighs. “Fine. Please let Dutch know I'll be late, and tell her I'm sorry.”

“Yes, John.”

 

 **Four** :

 

“Dutch? There is a warrant.”

Dutch looks at it. “This is level one, Lucy. It's barely worth the fuel cost.”

“It would be advantageous.”

Dutch looks closer. The warrant is a simple retrieve-and-transport. The object has no cultural or political significance that she can see, and doesn't look like it would help her to make any professional connections.

“Details, Lucy.”

“The object is a first-edition, slightly-used copy of _Captain Apex #1_.”

“I can see that.”

“Johnny has six other issues of _Captain Apex_ in his personal storage locker. It would be advantageous to accept this warrant.”

Oh. Well. All right, then.

 

**Five:**

 

“John?”

There is no answer.

“John?”

Still nothing.

“John, I don't know what to do.”

She calls out.

 

She adjusts the interior lighting so that Pawter will instinctively move in the right direction. She knows John Andras Jaqobis's blood type. She flashes her external running lights so that the medical shuttle can find them easily. Then she waits. And waits. And waits. The blood dries onto the floor panels, onto the support struts. Left too long, it will corrode them and John will need to replace them. The situation is sub-optimal. She should not allow herself to be damaged.

She calls Dutch's comm to request a status update on John. Dutch, like John earlier, does not answer. She contacts _Avignon_ directly. Avignon maintains medical confidentiality. Avignon has a very large crew, with multiple redundancies. Lucy does not.

Lucy powers down.

When Dutch and D'avin return, Lucy does not greet them. They do not speak to each other. Lucy monitors communications between them and Doctor Simms, and researches optimum temperature and humidity levels for convalescing post-surgical patients. The literature is not consistent. She finds the average, and adjusts her internal environment accordingly.

 

**And one:**

 

Pawter is bone-tired when Pree knocks on her door with a package and a shot of banana-flavoured liqueur. It's been a hellishly long day, the last in a chain of hellishly long days, doing too much with too little. It's not that she can't get the supplies. Her bank account is the size of a planet. Getting them shipped to forsaken Westerley is the problem. She's got one patient, a kid, who'd be better in a matter of days on Qresh, but here she is watching him die slowly despite her best efforts. She can numb his pain, of course. Narcotics are the one thing that isn't an issue around here.

So when Pree knocks on her door and tells her she's got a shipment of precisely the antifungal she needs, from an anonymous source, it's the best high she's had in months.

 

 


End file.
